50 stupid things you did
by X-Sparker
Summary: ...Because damn it how else was I supposed to love you?
1. No 1: The Heeedugergihoddwee

**50 stupid things you did**

…Because damn it how else was I supposed to love you?

No. 1: The Heee-du-ger-gi-hodd-wee

* * *

He's a fireman.

I keep telling him to go get a better job. Getting all that bachelor's degree for chemistry and something-something-degree in fire science and that something-something-degree in civil service; getting all that and end up getting a job that paid only nine pounds an hour.

"Beats sittin' in an office all day long." He says.

"Bull." I say. Cold beer runs in my throat; it's a Friday night out with just all guys. Demyx and Sora and Riku and Pence and me and him. No Olette or Selphie; they ruin the atmosphere.

"What, you don't think firemen are sexy?" He laughs. The rest of them laugh with him.

"Up yours." I say, embarrassed.

"Oh fuck, you bloody bastard." Demyx says, pulling out a five-pound coin. "Guess Axel's prediction's right again."

"What?" I ask, and look at Axel. He moves his left arm from the back of his chair onto the table, with that goddamned grin on his face. "What?!"

"Rox, 's probably better you let it." Sora says.

"Don't call me Rox." I say, and glare at Axel. "Ax-el." I know him since kindergarten. That goddamn grin isn't something good.

"We were betting that you were a latent homosexual." The sentence ends in crackles. All I know is that heat rushing to my head—no, not blushing, bloody hell—anger!

"I'll murder you!" I really did want to. I would strangle him to his death if I could. But he's a _fireman_, goddamnit.

"It's alright, Roxas." Demyx laughs, "This isn't America—we won't treat you with that Catholic Republican shit."

"Shut your face." I say. Can't believe they're all ganging up on me. So much for some friends. Sometimes I wonder just why the hell I know them in the first place.

"Tail your arses back home, boys." The barman says, interrupting, "Closing time."

The guys groan. Somehow I feel like I had a mini victory, even if I really was at a loss.

* * *

Everyone is sort of drunk as each of him climbs into the car. Axel is the only sober one 'cause he has a shift tomorrow, and I am the second relatively sober one. But the lights are already flashy in my eyes as we drive over the bumpy bridge, and I'm feeling lou-lou-lou-lou-lousy. Got to keep my head straight now. Don't move, Roxas, try to focus.

"You know I was just joking." He suddenly says. I can't reply 'cause I have to keep my head straight.

"Really, I didn't mean it." He says again. He thinks I'm mad 'cause I kept quiet! Do I talk that much normally?

"Rox?" He glances over to me while trying to keep his attention on the road. Oh, I have a little plan in mind…

"What if I really _am_ gay?" I say. Oooooooh look at that face! Hah I've got you now, Axel!

"Well um…" He stutters. Good, good, plan going as planned. "I uh… I mean… I won't look down on you or anything… It's your freedom to… I guess, love whoever you want to…"

I can't control my laughter. But it sounds more like hiccups.

"Are you seeing someone?" He asks. I can't stop laughing. He seems irritated by my lack of reply.

And right up back to our shared flat.

* * *

The bad thing about getting wasted is that you have to wake up with a killer headache. My head feels like it's a ball of round stone that's just about heavy enough to break my neck. I buttress my head with the heels of my hands and sit up. Lord knows what time it is but the sun is all up and about.

_Here's one for you. Stay away from the range as much as you can_.

I take the painkiller next to his memo and drink it down. Hangover mornings always start like this. Some of the guys who haven't sobered up yet from last night are still here sleeping on the ground. The rest I assume Axel brought back to their homes on his way to work.

How am I supposed to eat if he doesn't want me to touch the range?

I'll settle for reheated frozen pizza so I swing open the fridge. Oh, silly, not the main fridge... Huh?

Bloody bastard.

* * *

It's five o'clock and Axel's shift is going to end soon. Riku left for home with Sora and I'm the only one left in the flat. I should think about what to have for dinner, except that Axel's pasta—or the fact that he was able to cook at all—still lingers in my mind.

The phone jumps me up. Lazily I crawl up from the sofa and grab it.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hi, is this Axel's family?" A man's voice, almost covered over by yells and the sounds of police wails, says.

"No, I'm his flatmate." I say. What is this about?

"Do you know how I can contact his family?"

"I don't, I'm sorry." I say. "What is this? Is there something wrong?"

"Well, I'm on Axel's fire team and he just fell down with the stairs when we were clearing a building—"

"Oh my God is he alright?!"

"I don't know yet. I can't say." The man says, "I'll need you to come to the hospital."

* * *

I grabbed Demyx and some other guys to drive me over. The doctor says he was going to be alright, saving a few months of recovery. Demyx and Selphie rush into the room before me.

"Oh my... God!" Demyx exclaims, covering his mouth.

Axel is sitting, a leg lifted with about ten centimeters' thick of cast around it. His left arm is on a cast as well, and the other is wrapped in bandage. His face is wrapped up too, and even so you can see the horrendous swelling. He tries to smile.

"You idiot!" I can feel an unwarranted anger rising up to my chest and running into my arms and lips. I don't know why I am lunging forward to grab him despite his broken state. "You fucking bastard! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Roxas!" Demyx grabs me by the arms. "Roxas! He's hurt!"

I struggle. Why do I get angry at him for nearly dying, when I know his job has such a dangerous nature anyway? I always thought I was ready for it. That one day I may very well wake up and become the only one left living in that flat. And here I am, getting thrown out of the room by Demyx. I stop fighting him.

"I thought I was going to lose him..." My legs give out and I fall onto the sofa nearby. "I thought I really was going to lose him forever..." Heat crowds around my eyes.

"Roxas, nobody wants this to happen." Selphie says.

"I know, I know!" I cover my eyes up with my arm. "But it's all so _real_..."

They keep quiet.

"I just need some time." I say, "I just need some time."

* * *

I go into the room after Demyx and Selphie talk with Axel and leave. I didn't want to look at his eyes, partly because looking at his wrapped up face hurts, and partly because I am too shameful to.

"Wokhs." He mumbles through the swelling of his jaw, "Wokhsas."

I slowly meet his gaze. He smiles even if I can tell it hurts.

"Heee du gergi hodd wee." He says as he raises his right arm—the one wrapped only in bandages—and pats my head.

I move closer to him. "I can't hear a thing you're saying."

"Heee-du-wer-gi-hahot-wee." He tries again. I have to get closer until his lips are right next to my ear.

"Peese dun werwi hahot wee." He says.

My chest knots up so tight I have to leak a smile in order to feel better, "Since when did you learn to say 'please', Axel?"

Suddenly the door opens with a boy and a lady who looks like his mother coming in.

"Oh my goodness." She exclaims, "I-I-I don't know what to say."

Axel shakes his head. His eyes look so benevolent.

"Thank you." She says. "Thank you so much. You're a hero. Billy, say thank you to him."

"Thank you, sir." The little boy says earnestly.

"Visiting hours are over." The doctor comes in and says. I leave the room with the lady and her son.

"Madam, May I ask…?"

"Oh, oh I'm sorry." She says. "Is he your friend?"

I nod.

"Please say 'thank you' to him one more time for me." She puts a hand on her son's head. "He saved Billy's life. The fire was so bad the whole structure of the building was falling apart. Billy was stuck on a staircase that could fall any minute. Your friend went to brace his fall and… took all the damage for Billy."

I look at the boy who has one hand tugging his mother's skirt and the other hand sticking a thumb into his mouth. Not a scrape on him.

"I'll be sure to tell him." I say. She thanks me and leaves with her son skipping up and down beside her. Not a scrape on him.


	2. No 2: The servitude abuse

**50 stupid things you did**

No. 2: The servitude abuse

* * *

"Rox."

Hmmmmmmm…

"Rox, wake up."

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm…

"Rox, wake up, goddamnit!"

"What?!" I sit up. "What do you want?"

"I want some water." He says.

Oh heavens! Can't he get his own damn water?! "You still have one arm you can use, you know."

"Sure but the other is still broken." He leans back onto the pillow and pins his eyes up at me. "Besides, why won't I use a maid if I have one right here?"

Without a word I grab his jaw and squeeze it. How I wish it were still swollen right now. Just when he gets a little bit better he thinks he can gain a mile from an inch.

"Ow, Rox!" He grabs my arm. "It took a month for the swelling to disappear! Don't harm my beautiful face!"

"Oh, you're abominable." I say. Fucking bastard seems to get a kick out of getting on my nerves. I let him go and pick up some dirty clothes from the chair.

"Only to you, Rox." He says. "I don't get it. You never seem to fall for anyone."

Oh, what now?

"You're such a heartless person."

"Axel. Get over it." I say. "Just because I tend to like people based on their _personality_ and not their appearances."

"Oh, so I have no personality?" He says, feigning hurt.

"Not one I'd like to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life." I say. Wait—this conversation is going wrong. "Besides, what are you talking about? We're both guys, and we're best friends."

He seems to have something to say, but then let the topic drop.

Two knocks on the door interrupt the silence. The doctor comes in with a folder and smiles at both of us.

"Hullo, young men." He says. "I'll need to talk to Axel…"

"I'll be outside." I say, understanding his point. "I still have an article to write, anyway." And grab my laptop with me to the hall outside.

* * *

The doctor opens and closes the door quietly. I stand up and he nods at me.

"You sure are a good friend." He says, "Don't you have to work?"

"Oh I'm a journalist." I reply. "Got the privilege to work anywhere I want—'cept it doesn't pay very well. And he's my flatmate, anyway. If I go home it'll be only me there, so why not come here so he doesn't have to be so bored out."

"I see." The doctor says. "Well, I appreciate how much time you spend with him. It's good that he has someone there to support him."

"Of course." I nod. The doctor smiles and then leaves. I go back in.

"So what'd he say?" I ask. He looks at me like he's been pulled out of his thoughts.

"Not much." He says. "Just routine report on how I'm recovering."

I nod and shrug. Then I remember I still have to finish my writing.

* * *

Maybe staying in the hospital with Axel isn't such a good idea after all. I can't concentrate on work with him moaning and bitching right next to me about how bored he is. Given, he's been in the hospital for over a month without getting off the bed, I don't blame him for wanting a little something to do after a day or two. But certainly he doesn't need me to entertain him every other five minutes!

"Rox."

"No!" I say. "No more. I have to work. Go play PSP or something."

"But I need to go." He says. "To the toilet."

What? To the toilet?! He can't possibly think he'll be getting off the bed with that huge cast still on his leg, can he?

"You're not going anywhere, Axel." I say.

"I know." He says. "I didn't mean to the toilet _literally_."

Then what does he mean?

He pulls out a plastic canister with a tube attached to it. And then he looks at me. I look back. Is that what the nurses give him to work with?

"Can you?" He asks, almost timidly.

I can feel my face turn red. I turn away. No way.

"Alright, I can do it myself." He says. "Just don't look this way."

I go up and close the blinds of the room. Then I wait. I hear some shuffling and some groan and I wait. After five minutes I still don't hear that hissing sound I was expecting.

"Alright, alright, fine." I say, turning back to him. "I'll do it."

"Really?" He asks. "You don't have to. I mean, I've done it myself before."

"Let's just get it done, alright?" I say.

It is so much harder than you'd think. It takes us three whole minutes just to get his hospital gown out of the way, and then it takes longer to get his boxers out. I try not to look at his private area and just focus on getting the canister onto the floor without pulling the tube off from him (of course he put the tube on himself). Then it takes us just as much time to put everything back into place, plus the time needed to close off the tube and clean it and all that.

He's been doing this alone for the whole past month.

"Just leave that there and have the nurse take it out." He says, referring to the plastic canister.

"No, I'll do it." I say. What's a little more work than what I've already done for him? "How long does it usually take you to do this?"

"About twenty minutes." He says.

"Just to go to the toilet?" I ask.

"Can't take anything for granted, eh?" He says.

It sounds almost as if he is bitter about it, but he eyes don't look that way so I let it go. I go to the toilet to get rid of the stuff inside the canister, and my cellular phone rings.

"'Ello?"

"Roxas!" Sora's voice comes through. "Where're you at? I'm trying to find you!"

"Uh, are you in the hospital right now?" I ask.

"Yes. Where are you?" He says.

"Oh, I'm in the toilet... doing something." I say. "I'll be in Axel's room in a minute."

"I'll meet you there." He says and hangs up. I hurriedly flush the toilet and wash my hands. When I head back I meet Sora right outside the door of the room.

"Roxas!" He says. "What's that?" He points at the canister in my hand.

"Uh... it's... something." It's far too embarrassing to say it. Sora looks at me dubiously. He won't know, he's always so dense—

"Oh wow you're doing that for him?" He says, and right away my face heats up. "That's why you were at the toilet, huh?"

"Yes, Sora..." I say, completely embarrassed. Ah, I might as well blame it on Axel at this point. "He keeps making me do these things for him like I'm his maid or something."

"Too bad." He laughs. "But you're the only one who's willing to do it anyway—or rather, you're the only one he's willing to let to do anyway."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, look at it this way, Roxas," Sora says. "Axel never moan or bitch or rely on or whine to anyone but you. No, with other people, it's the other way around. They ask for his advices and rely on his support instead. You're the only one he's willing to whine to."

"And is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?" I ask.

"I don't know." He says. "You'll be the judge of that."

My face bloats up at his mysterious-like comment at the end as he enters the room.


	3. No 3: The nickname calling

**50 stupid things you did **

No. 3: The nickname calling

* * *

I have no clear reason for why this happens, but when Axel is out for physical therapy, I happen to have the pleasant surprise of bumping into an old friend, Hayner. Hayner and I were, more or less, archenemies when we were children. Later we both grew out of our grudges against each other and became football buddies.

"Rox?" He says with a wide grin on his face as he comes into the room. "Rox!"

I jump up from my computer and realise it is him. "Hayner! Oh my goodness! It's been a long while!"

We give each other pats on the back.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"You remember my aunt?" He says. I nod. "She's getting chemotherapy here."

"Oh... I'm sorry." I say. He shakes his head and returns the question, "What about you?"

"You know Axel?" I say.

"Yes; how can I possibly forget?" He says, smirking, "You told me so much about him. If our conversations weren't on football then they were on him."

"Did I?" I say as I try to recall my memories with Hayner. "Anyway, he's a fireman now. And he got hurt during his last rescue so he got hospitalized."

"Ouch." He says. "I hope he's alright."

"Oh he'll be fine." I roll my eyes. "They say that idiots heal faster than normal people do."

Hayner laughs. "You haven't changed a bit, Rox."

"Really, now?" I smile. "How does coffee sound to you?"

He smiles, and we head out together for Starbucks.

* * *

So it turns out that Hayner is working in an electronics company as some sort of department director. It sounds like it's doing him some good. We reminisce old memories, of how we met in football club and hated each other enough to get into fights. The coach sure hated us. It must have been a bother to have to yank us away from each other every time one of us didn't pass to the other or blocked a goal or something. And then he tells me about a club he's going to now—as a hobby club.

"You know I felt like I was getting so fat." He says. "Everyday I wake up, I eat, go to the university, I go to lectures, I go home and eat and sleep. I felt like I'll develop heart problems if I didn't go back to playing football. I just needed the exercise."

"So you play as a local team?" I ask.

"Yes. It's actually all very organised," He says, "They get men who are interested to sign up in one of the YMCA's, and they group them together, give them an actual coach; we play against other teams and secondary school teams. It's really quite fun, you know. Maybe you should join us."

I feel something shrink inside me at the thought. "I haven't played for so long."

"That's exactly right." He says. "Get some of that exercise you need."

"I'll think about it." I say. It seems to give the thought a finalized death sentence.

"Alright, here's what." He picks out a piece of tissue and writes on it. "We have a game this Saturday. Why don't you come over and watch? Maybe you'll end up wanting to join."

I smile. His insistent temper has never left him. I take the tissue and put it into my computer's suitcase. We then head back to the hospital.

"Promise you'll at least come and watch?" He asks at the door of his aunt's room. I smile, roll my eyes a little, and nod.

"It was good to see you again, Rox." He says.

"Me too." I say. "How did we lose track of each other on the way?"

He muses for a moment, and says, "It may have been going to different universities. Oh, I don't know, like, we haven't seen each other for at least four years?" The tail of the sentence sounds sarcastic. I laugh.

"You bastard." I say, and he bids farewell.

"Who was that?" Someone asks. I turn. It is Axel; the doctor has allowed him to shift into a wheelchair now.

"An old friend of mine." I say, walking past him. If he's so well now he wouldn't need me to wheel him.

"Wait! Rox!" He yells behind me as I enter his room. "I've never seen him."

"He was a friend from football club," I say, folding his laundered clothes with annoyance. "Which you never cared to join, or even come to watch us."

"You know I never cared much for football." He says. I roll my eyes at him.

"What do you want, Axel?" I ask.

"He called you 'Rox'." He says.

"So?" I ask.

"I thought I was the only one allowed to call you that." He says. He sounds almost childish, like a kid who discovers another kid owning the same exact toy he does

"Well, you're not." I say. "People from my childhood all call me that. My dad and mom still do sometimes. It's only later that I want people to address me by my full name."

"I don't want to call you 'Rox' anymore, then." He says. Can he possibly be more absurd? "Let me think of a new one... Rox… Rox… Rox… Roxy!"

Oh yes, he can, actually.

"You are _not_—" I begin.

"Roxy!" He sings. "Roxy, Roxy, Roxy, Roxy!"

Oh for Pete's sake!

And the name stuck.


	4. No 4: The wheelchair adventures

**50 stupid things you did**

No. 4: The wheelchair adventures

* * *

I keep telling the doctor it was a disastrous idea to let him into a wheelchair.

Because now he has the ability to move around wherever he wants to until something happens. He just seems so lively lately – almost unusually. I don't recall him ever having that much energy before the rescue incident.

I go into his room and find it empty. A nurse passes by and I ask, "Where is this patient?"

She checks her clipboard, glances around the room once, and says she doesn't know. We head out to look for that idiot. I should have known. Shouldn't have expected he would stay in his room like he is supposed to.

Just when we are at the lobby, I see him--recognize him through that red blob of his hair—whispering something into the ears of a boy. They both giggle, and then they head out of the hospital.

"Axel!" I say, trying not to scream bloody murder in the hospital. He doesn't seem to have heard me and disappears into the gardens.

* * *

Oh, fucking Axel.

I'm going to skin him alive when I see him--ow!

Ugh not another branch!

Goddamnit!

* * *

Three whole hours pass before I see him again. He was wrestling with the boy when I found him. Good Lord! What was he thinking?

"Axel!" I scream bloody murder anyway.

They both turn to me like a deer caught in headlights. Then, as if criminals caught on the scene, Axel pulls his accomplice into his lap and scurries away in his wheelchair.

That bastard—!

I run after them and their hysterical laughter. Oh no, you won't be smiling for long!

The nurse comes out the front entrance and almost gets ran into by Axel. She screams, Axel stops, and the boy falls forward, the beanie on his head almost falling with him.

"Matthew!" She exclaims and pulls the boy up. He pats himself free of dust and smiles. "Your mother will be worried if she knows you are out running like that!"

"I wasn' runnin'." He says. "And Miss, momma won't know 'less you tell 'er."

The nurse frowns and looks at "Matthew" apprehensively. The boy loses his smile. Then she smiles and picks his hand up. She turns to me, "Thank you, sir."

I shake my head and they go back into the hospital. Matthew salutes to Axel and pulls his beanie back in place. I stare down at Axel. He knows how angry I am at the moment.

"Uh..." He says sheepishly, "You were looking for me?"

I smack him over the head and head into the hospital. He follows closely.

"Roxy! Where are you going?"

"To get my cuts fixed!" I point to my ankles where the tree branches cut me several times over. He widens his eyes, and doesn't follow me anymore.

* * *

The doctor stopped the bleeding and patched me up with some bandages. When Axel sees this, it seems to do the trick. His eyes are full of guilt and he opens his mouth several times trying to say something, but the words never come out. I just sit there beside him waiting for him to be out with it.

"Isn't there something you should say?" I finally ask.

His head jerks up and he looks at me.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"What were you doing with that boy?" I say.

"I can't tell you." He says, and sees the look on my face, "I promised him."

"Oh, Axel!"

"Really, I did!" He insists. "He's not someone I want to break a promise to."

That got my heart stopping a moment there. Did I hear him right? He doesn't say another word and I know, from the look on his face, that he is serious. Suddenly I feel like I am at some kind of fault; like I want to find a place and hide.

"Well you didn't have to run when I called for you." I say.

"Yes, I know—I'm sorry, Roxy." He says.

"Why have you been so energized lately?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Have I?"

"Yes." I say. "You don't usually run around the place—even in a wheelchair. You were always the one I rely on instead—you stay sober to drive me home, you give me my hangover aspirins, you make sure I don't get near the kitchen, _you cook pasta for me_. Now it seems like we exchanged our roles. What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong." He says. "I'm fine. I'm just bored. I've been here for a while, you know. There's nothing I can do around here. I can't do anything; I can't even—" He stops. "I'm just bored, Roxy."

"Well you need this break—I don't want you limping around for the rest of your life." I say.

"I know, I know—but! Haven't you ever had the feeling of wanting to do something?" He says, suddenly getting attentive. "Like, do something that has an actual meaning, that amounts to something other than nothing? Time is short and limited and it's a real shame to let it pass without doing something with a meaning, a purpose. You never know what happens tomorrow. I don't wanna go just to be included as one more number in the death toll."

Death? Wha- "Axel, what's wrong? You're not dying, are you?"

He laughs. "No, no I'm not. But I don't have to be dying to need a purpose to live, do I?"

I say nothing. He has a point. After all he's been practically _locked up_ in this hospital for over two months. Surely I can't blame him for wanting a little something to do during the day when everyone else is busy out.

* * *

When dusk comes along I decide to go back to our flat to get some change of clothing and other things. I pass by a room and I see that little boy again. Now he's got a tube running under his nose as he sits in his bed and reads a children's storybook.

"_He's not someone I want to break a promise to."_

I decide to fulfill my curiosity and enter his room. Matthew looks up from his storybook at me. He seems to quiver at first, as if afraid of me, then he relaxes.

"Hi." I say.

"Hi." He says back.

"My name is Roxas." I say. "I'm a friend of Axel's."

He smiles at the mere mention of Axel's name.

"Your friend's funny." He says. "I like him."

"I like him too." I say. "So what were you guys doing out in the garden?"

"We were making a time capsule!" He drops the book in his hands and waves them up, as if making a gesture of grandiosity. "He says that if I want to leave some memories behind for my parents before I go, then I should make a time capsule."

Go? "Where will you be going to, Matthew?" I ask.

"To heaven." He says, seemingly not knowing what he means. "The doctor says I may have to go to this place—this 'heaven'—soon because there is something in me that will send me there. But I don't want to go. I like staying with my parents. So I made that time capsule with Axel for them—in case I don't come back."

The last line makes me wonder if he really doesn't know what going to heaven means. I go over to the end of his bed and take a look at the clipboard.

Leukemia.

He is merely ten years old. I look back at him and realise what the beanie is for.

"Axel says that if I _do_ end up going to heaven, he'll bring the time capsule to my parents." He says, sounding satisfied.

"I'll make sure he does." I nod. Our conversation is curtailed when a nurse comes in to get Matthew.

"He needs to do his chemotherapy." She says.

I nod and stand up to leave.

"Say hello to Axel for me, please?" Matthew asks. I smile and nod.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

* * *

Edits: I looked back at the previous chapters and realized the page breaks were gone. The story must've sounded weird without them. Now they're back!


	5. No 5: The physical therapy

**50 stupid things you did**

No. 5: The physical therapy

A/N: After a long ado, I'm finally picking this fic up again. I hope to do it as a side-story thing, just pushing it along whenever I get an idea in my head.

* * *

It isn't until I got back to the hospital that I find out what Axel has been hiding from me.

I stay at home for several days before going back. As usual I go for his room, and once again I find it empty. He may have just been out with Matthew again, playing when they are not supposed to be. I take the lift downstairs and arrive at the doctor's office.

"Hi, Doctor." I say. He looks at me and returns the greeting.

"What can I do for you?" He says.

"Do you know where Axel is?" I ask.

"Yes—he's in his physical therapy session right now." He says. "On third floor, the first room on the left."

"How is his leg coming around?" I ask.

"Normally I wouldn't disclose patient information," He says, "But since you are the one who registered for his hospitalisation… I guess you have the right to know.

"His legs were hurt more severely than it appears to you. It wasn't just a broken bone and a few bruises. The multiple fractures in his calf tore some tissues and ligaments. His knee was dislocated. And the iron beam that sat on his leg for a while—that caused several circulation complications. It was lucky we could even keep his leg. It's going to take him a while to get motor ability and reflexes back into that leg."

"And his job?" I ask. "Could he ever be a fireman again?"

The doctor looks at me with this look of regret. "He'd be lucky to walk again."

* * *

Something ties in my heart as the lift climbs to third floor. Why will Axel keep these things secret from me? I'm with him almost everyday, how did I let it slip?

The lift stops with a ring and I step out. I can see Axel through the tiny strip of window from outside.

He looks like he is incredibly in pain. Two nurses stand beside him to catch him if he falls. He puts his arms on the monkey bars beside him, putting so much energy I can see the veins in them standing out. He lifts his leg up—I can see that the doctor has taken the cast off—in an effort to step out. Time almost feels like it stopped. All of us are just watching—hoping he will succeed.

But he falls and he falls hard. The nurses catch him while I rush in.

It hurts.

It hurts to see him scrambling back up with the help of the nurses, and trying to regain balance as they slowly let go of him. It hurts to see him wiping sweat, heaving every breath just trying to walk one step. It hurts to look him in the eyes, to see that look he gave me—almost ashamed, humiliated, vulnerable. Hurt.

"Let's have a recess." He says, and the nurses walk out the door.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" I say.

"How was I going to?" He says. "You'll get worried, just like you are now-"

"Damn it, Axel." I say. "I'm your friend! We've known each other since kindergarten. Can't you trust me that much?"

"I _do_ trust you, Roxy." He says. "It's just… You _know_ me. I don't want to…" He pauses.

"I know." I say, and then I give up. I know I was simply trying to make him say it, even though I know he can never do that. I wouldn't do it either. I'm a man, too; I know what it's like to have a wounded pride. "So what will you do now? The doctor said—"

"That I'd be lucky to walk again, I know." He says. I look at him with surprise. "I'm not going to give up, Roxy. I know what you think of my job. But there's nothing else I want to do. Do you understand? Do you get what I mean…?"

I nod. I know him all too well. And the best I could do is to stand by him.

* * *

I went to our flat again on Saturday. I bathed, got changed, had some sleep, ate, and even did the housework. There seemed to be nothing to do and yet I remember there was something I'm supposed to do.

I walk over to the fridge to check the post-its stuck on it. There's the one about getting Axel some new toothpaste, and the one about stocking in some coke. Gotta pick up the letters, mail some out, get someone to fix the plumbing in the toilet…

Hayner's football game is today!

* * *

Hayner approaches me during halftime.

"I thought you'd never come." He says.

"Sorry, I almost forgot." I say, scratching my head.

"It's alright." He says, and sits down next to me. "I suppose you were taking care of your friend?"

"Yeah." I sigh. The image of Axel's agony resurfaces. "Hayner, am I being overly worried for him?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I forgot my own high school friend's football game today because I worried over him." I say. "I just don't know if I'm doing the right thing, or if I'm just being too nosy and bugging into his way."

"Why would you think that?" Hayner asks. "Did something happen?"

"Well…" I say. "To be honest, the conditions of his legs are not looking good. The doctor said he may never be a fireman again."

"Oh." He says, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"But the problem is, he won't even tell me that." I couldn't help that little tinge in my heart when I say that. "I thought I was his best friend but… am I not trustworthy enough for him to tell me about it?"

"Maybe it's exactly because you're his best friend that he didn't want you to worry." Hayner says. "Think about it. If it were you who had been hurt, wouldn't you also want to keep bad news from him so he wouldn't be worried?"

Of course. That will have been obvious. But what bothers me more is that he's worrying about me even in this state. It's about time he starts worrying more about himself than about others. That's how he's always been—others come first, then himself. That's how it's been with his job, that's how it's been with me, that's how it is with Matthew.

"You know," Hayner says. "Your friend may be more heroic than you think he is."

I look up. It is as if Hayner knew what I was thinking about.

"You're lucky to have him as your best friend." He finishes. Am I? Thinking back on all the things Axel has ever done for me, I nod. I _am_ lucky to know Axel.


End file.
